


Holmes have it

by blackcrystaly



Series: Holmes' Heart [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Same tags as the previous work still apply, Sherlock cares about Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/pseuds/blackcrystaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg remembers the first time that Sherlock spoke to him about Mycroft Holmes, and while his most recent case is turned to the secret service he has another chance encounter with the ginger fox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A chance encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a brief sequel of Mycroft's heart.  
> I want to thank Miss Katrina and Leah_Ester for being such an amazing betas! All remaining mistakes are my own.

Gregory Lestrade had gone home after the meeting and little sex phone session with Mycroft Holmes, but not before calling the solicitor that the woman Anthea had appointed him with. He had sat down on the sofa, looked at his wife and told her the truth. They were going nowhere. She didn’t love him anymore and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. At least they should be honest with one another and put an end to the charade.

She had looked at him, a little sad light in her eyes that, he understood, had to do with the fact that they had failed as a couple and not because there was any love left between them. At least none of the romantic, sexual type of love that had brought them together in the first place. The light-blonde woman gave him a strange smile. All of her posture spoke of some kind of relief at finally facing the issue.

It was strange, he knew, the feeling of emptiness that seemed to wash over him. He wasn’t angry or unhappy; he had gone through that long before they reached this point.

They spoke more or less calmly about the assets each one cared to keep and then he had told her about the lawyer he had already contacted. He asked her to meet with him at the man's the office the day after so they could sort the whole thing out and be done with it.

His soon-to-be ex-wife seemed a bit surprised that he had gone to such lengths already. But it also spoke of how sure he was about them parting ways and somehow it made her feel a little less guilty about her affairs, about being the first one who fell out of love.

So, that had been it.

She would keep the house because he hated it, he always had. But back then it was the best they could afford and the blonde had wanted to live close to the city. Moreover it was more or less close to the Yard so he didn’t have to commute all that far. He would stay that night, sleep on the couch, and the next day he would go to the cheap flat he had been speaking for until he could fine better lodgings elsewhere. Greg went upstairs then and packed his bags so he wouldn’t wake her up when he left in the morning. They would see each other later at the solicitor's and in the meantime he would try to find some good movers because chances were he wouldn’t have that much time on his hands.

 

A text woke him up around two in the morning. He said a rude word before grabbing the blasted mobile knowing there was only one person in the world who could be so time insensitive.

**The murderer is the life insurance seller. Ironic. SH**

Damn the genius for connecting the dots like that! Somewhere his mind was trying to find what exactly had led Sherlock to the little man with the moustaches and the soft voice. Except for him being the one who called the police in the first place, Greg could find no way he could be related to the case. They hadn’t thought about doing more than a basic background check on the man: thirty-something, single, living alone, working in a boring job without perspectives…

Suddenly a warning sounded in his head, and he knew he had to act quickly.

**Wait for me. GL**

He typed while hurriedly dressing. A reply came almost immediately and he felt, once more, the need to hit something. Mainly a tall genius with no sense of self preservation.

**324 Northumberland St.** **SH**

Gregory called his team and gave them the address. As ever, he gave a little mental prayer hoping that he didn’t show up too late. He didn’t know what would happen to all of them if the time came when Sherlock didn’t make it out alive from one of his little daring adventures.

 

By the time the yarders arrived, Sherlock had the suspect in a headlock and the man seemed to be turning pale. Greg walked towards the consulting detective slowly and demanded that he release the man so he could be lawfully arrested.

The other looked at him for a moment before giving his prisoner over with something akin to the outmost care. Which the older man knew meant that the man would try to make a run for it.

When he found himself in cuffs the murderer began to protest that there was no reason for him to be under arrest. The brunette had been the one who had attacked while making ridiculous accusations; he had been the one to report the crime he was being charged with committing!

“I made a citizen arrest,” the consulting detective answered simply to the other while shrugging his shoulders.

“You had no right!”

“You have the right to remain silent; I recommend you make use of it," Lestrade said to the man harshly. "Now, Sherlock, explain to me how he is the one we are looking for…”

“It was so obvious. I can’t believe you didn’t see it. I mean, even Anderson could have solved it if he had paid some attention to the evidence instead of trying to get into Sergeant Donovan’s pants… again.”

The forensic specialist gave a snort and looked ready to attack the tall man at his side, so Lestrade had to put an end of it, like always. Some days he wondered why he worked with such immature people.

“Anderson, the house won’t process itself. Sherlock, explanations, please, I’m the one who has to do the paperwork afterwards.”

“Du-uul…l…” The way Sherlock strung out the word put the silver haired man on alert. It usually meant that the consulting detective had caught on something and his brain was just too busy processing it to actually speak at the same time.

He looked at the younger man and waited for him to decide what he wanted to share, while at the same time bracing himself for a storm.

“ _You’ve met him_ ,” Sherlock’s voice sounded muffled, as if trying to prevent the rest of the officers from hearing.

Of course he knew exactly who the other was talking about.

“Yes,” He answered simply.

“And you were sleeping on the sofa tonight...” He went on, half closing his eyes. “So either, your cheater of a wife finally told you off or…” The brunette studied him once more, scanning him from head to toe, making him feel almost exposed. “ _You and_ _him_.”

The consulting detective spoke almost in a whisper, so low that the only reason Greg could hear it at all was because he was at his side. It took a moment for the older man to register that the taller one hadn’t sounded disapproving; he was merely stating a fact, even if in awe.

There was no point in lying to a Holmes, and he knew it, so he just nodded, confirming the man’s deduction. He didn’t really need to know how the man had achieved this particular one.

At that moment, Anderson came out from the house with several fire arms closely followed by Sally.

“This man had an arsenal inside. You better come in, sir,” she said in the dreadful tone she used when the young brunette solved the case and looked at him venomously, while several other agents moved around in and out of the house.

At least, they weren’t name-calling the brunette in front of him anymore. Greg had made it quite clear to all of them that he would not tolerate or support their mistreatment of the man who helped them for free. Those who had not taken him seriously had found themselves in several mandatory courses about building police-civilian relationships, sensitivity training or asked politely to transfer to other Sherlock-free areas of the NSY. Somehow, the higher ups never called him on it, and now he suspected that maybe the older sibling had been involved in that as well.

“I’ve _boring_ police work to do here, see you later,” Greg said while turning around and slowly making his way to the now secured place.

“I’ll be waiting for you at Baker Street!” the other shouted over his shoulder while walking away.

“You'd better!” was all the response he needed to give. It had become a common enough salute between them.

 

An hour and a half later, they were still gathering evidence from the suspect’s house. The man not only seemed to be collecting enough gun power for a small army but he seemed fixated on overturning the political power of Britain according to the amount of papers they had found.

All things considered, Greg shouldn’t have been very surprised to see a couple of men in suits appear at the front door and ask for him. They could only be from the secret service, and that meant the Mycroft Holmes was someone near… even if, maybe, not physically present.

He stepped outside to speak to them, knowing that the case was about to be taken from his hands, maybe for the best. He actually preferred solving crimes to getting into half assed conspiracy plots that several lunatics made each year. Still, he would try fighting for the man to be condemned on the murder he had committed.

One of the newcomers told him that they should move to the car that was waiting nearby. That made him smile; chances were that his sexy ginger fox was closer than he had thought. He briefly considered his chances at having another go at the man, and decided that he would have to wait and see. Here he was playing for keeps… Sherlock would kill him any other way.

*****

The young Holmes had made it perfectly clear that he actually cared for his older sibling, so there was no chance he would abide Lestrade toying with him. The consulting detective had told him about his brother one night after the whole “flush of the drugs” incident. He explained that Mycroft had always been a bit overprotective of him.

“If it were up to him I’d have never left our house. He would have me trapped there! I never meet anyone without him having done a whole background, medical and psychological check on them. He is the most overbearing older brother anyone could have!” Sherlock had said letting his voice get high pitched as if expecting someone else to hear it.

“Well, you’ve made some very doubtful calls before,” the detective inspector said, looking at the figure dressed only in pajamas and a blue dressing gown.

The younger man pouted for a moment, making Lestrade wonder how he had been as a child. Had he been the kind of boy that had his parents wrapped around his little finger?

“ _I’ve not!_ ” he protested at once. “Just because you cannot understand them doesn’t make them any less right _for me_.”

The silver haired man made a gesture with his hand that meant he was not going to pursue the matter, since he wanted the consulting detective to finish whatever he was trying to say, but that he clearly thought the other was talking bullshit.

“Anyway…” Sherlock had said, getting back to the point at hand. “He still does check up on the people I… _associate_ with,” he said the last words after a moment of hesitation.

“Well, I’d try to keep drug dealers and the likes of them away from my brother, too,” he had answered, not quite understanding why the man was making such a fuss.

“He is not just a common person, Lestrade!” Now, the consulting detective seemed flustered, almost angry, as he got when someone didn’t quite catch his meaning.

“ _Of course he won’t be, Sherlock!_ He is your _brother_! You Holmeses couldn’t be common if you _tried_!” Which, of course, from what he could muster, they had never attempted. Greg had to roll his eyes at the proud smile that appeared in the brunette’s eyes. “And for what you have managed to mumble he is some kind of secret service man or someone equally involved in the kind of thing you only talk about if you are going to kill whoever hears you…” He tried to put some humor in his voice because he knew that the taller man wouldn’t get as defensive if he did.

“He is…” Sherlock began, choosing his next words carefully and putting the older man on alert “A most _dangerous_ man, Lestrade… Some days you could say he _is_ the British Government itself… There is no one like him and there will be no one like him again. Again and again his words decide the national policy…” he said, his voice half-prideful half-secretive.

For a moment the detective inspector was sorely tempted to think that the younger Holmes has lost it. It was objectively impossible for such a man to exist with none the wiser… But then again, he thought that he wouldn’t have believed that a man like the brunette existed before.

“He is a storage unit of information; his brain is like nobody else’s. He takes apparently and completely unrelated facts and information and makes them come together as a whole, explaining how they would influence each other… They began using him as a short cut, something easy to handle and comfortably at hand. And now he has made himself essential.”

The way Sherlock kept talking about this mysterious, previously unknown sibling, made the silver haired man feel that there was a lot of admiration for his brother there. And maybe he was exaggerating things a little bit to make him look… bigger.

“ _Arrgh!_ ” Sherlock huffed, looking frustrated at the other. “Sometimes I wonder how it is to be in your pitiful little minds all day!”

“I suppose it’s like trying to make sense out of your maddening ramblings!” the smaller man replied, too used to the other’s antics to be really offended by the other’s remark.

“Fine! If I’ve to spell it for you. My brother will investigate you, possibly kidnap you and try to convince you not to employ me anymore since I’m apparently too fragile to be allowed to investigate crimes as I see fit.” The consulting detective seemed a little bit agitated now, which could only mean that he was really worried about the whole thing. So, the best course of action was to reassure him… and get the most information Greg could on this brother of his who seemed to have enough power to go around installing fear in his sibling’s relations. Not that he wouldn’t approve of the tactic considering some of the people he had seen the young man consort with.

“First of all, Sherlock, I don’t employ you since you are not being paid to do what you do…” Greg spoke softly and calmly so his words could actually get to the other man. “Secondly, would you care to explain why he would feel the need to kidnap me when it’s obviously enough, from what you told me, that he can get talk to me anytime that he wants since I’m a police officer and pretty much available?”

“Because he enjoys making people twist and turn under his gaze. He will read the whole of your life in your stance. He will tell you of your dreams by the way that you blink and of your most secret ambitions by the markings on your shoes…”

It was clearly a warning, but it was more than that too. The consulting detective was truly worried over the chance that the older relative could actually force his hand and take the cases from him. Well, that was a fear Greg could actually address right there and then.

“Nothing you don't do on daily basis, Sherlock…” he began but the other raised a hand to stop him and let him go on his tirade.

“And what he can’t tell from you he’ll see from those blasted CCTV cameras, because he is the one who controls them. That’s his job, his ‘public’ job, anyways… the _minor government position_ that he holds. And of course he will have a dossier on you apart from your police records and every other little thing he can get. He is not a man to be played with, Lestrade.” There was a sense of urgency there. It was obvious that this whole conversation was really distressing for Sherlock and Greg wondered if the other had ever had it with anyone else.

“ _Neither am I,_ ” he said simply. “Now, you hear me out. When your brother wants to talk to me he’ll come and do it. And no matter what he says to me, I won’t stop calling you in, okay?” Gregory told him in a sure voice.

“You haven’t met him yet,” the other said moving his head from side to side.

The detective inspector put his hand on the other’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“Don’t lose the little sleep you get, I can deal with the pressure.”

Something inside those grey, thunderous eyes seemed to shine. And one of his rare, genuine smiles finally appeared.

“Thank you, Lestrade,” he said simply. And just like that the usual mask fell into place and he went back to being the mad genius Greg had come to care for. “Now… you promised me some cold cases…”

*****

They finally reached the black car and one of them opened the door to let him in. The first thing Greg saw was that the taller man he had been thinking about was there.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said once the door had been closed—the men in the suits remaining outside—even though he knew it was neither time nor place.

“Detective inspector, I’m afraid this little case of yours is not under your jurisdiction anymore.” The older Holmes looked at him, partially disapproving of his use of the endearment.

“I suspected as much,” the silver haired one replied. “Yet, I’d like to see him go to trial for the murder of Alwain.”

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible, Detective Inspector—”

“Greg. We’ve agreed that you’d call me by my name,” he interrupted without remorse, deciding not to let the other man treat him as if they were strangers.

“This is a _work_ related matter, I’m afraid.” The answer came with impeccable speed.

“You should call me by name nonetheless… Since you don’t really care about my rank all that much, do you?” Lestrade said without any remorse in his voice.

It had been obvious from the turn that the enquiry was taking that it was going to be handed over to the secret service sooner rather than later. Of course, that didn’t mean that Greg had to like the fact that the man wouldn’t stand trial.

“That’s not true, Gregory, the fact that I’m _here_ telling you, should indicate that much…”

The silver haired man gave the other a dark smile. “No, you could have sent that wonderful PA of yours to tell me if you wanted to be courteous yet professional… Or you could have called me…” he said with the last part softly, letting his voice become a little huskier and got a little closer to the other man. “I remember you quite liked our last conversation… _Ginger Fox_ …” the man whispered into the other’s ear.

Lestrade had to admire the other man’s strength not to flinch and move away, when it was so clear that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“I called the lawyer you know. This afternoon we’ll sign the papers…” He kept on, little by little, letting his body become almost plastered to the other’s.

The man with the umbrella turned and put a hand against his chest, trying to gain some space.

“That is really good news, Gregory, but I’m afraid I can’t indulge in any kind of… intimate actions right now.”

“Mmm,” he murmured not moving a centimeter and taking the tempting earlobe between his teeth. “ _Sure about that?_ ” he asked letting his voice drop to the tone that he knew would affect this man.

“Ye… yes!” the older Holmes claimed, trying to sound convinced and unaffected... and knowing he had failed miserably.

It was so obvious that Mycroft was fighting against the temptation to give in that it made the detective inspector want to keep pushing. But then he remembered that if they got hot and heavy the other man wasn’t the one who would have to go back to a former investigation scene with the evidence of his desire for all to see. So he freed the man at once.

“Pity,” was all he said, letting his eyes roam across the always well-groomed man sitting at his side.

The other’s eyes were darker than they had been before, and his breath had picked up, proving he still desired the older man.

“Gregory, I must ask you to leave and call back your team so my people can take over,” the words fell naturally from Mycroft’s lips, but he bit them very lightly at the end. This, of course, was something Lestrade caught because he was looking for it.

“You could at least give me a goodbye kiss, don’t you think?” he asked, half expecting to be rebuffed.

The older Holmes looked at him, studying his whole pose. And then, very slowly, deliberately teasing the smaller man, he moved forward and pressed his lips against the other’s.

With a groan, the detective inspector changed the soft touch to a much more carnal type of contact. He took the other’s waist in his hands, making sure the man felt his fingers through his clothes, and thought of how much he wanted to push Mycroft against the seat and make love to him at that very moment.

Mycroft's hot, wet tongue left his mouth and he separated them.

“I think, Gregory, that is more than enough for a goodbye kiss,” he said, pupils dilated and breath ragged, but pretending to be the always-in-control man that he played so well.

“For now…” the man said with a satisfied smile. “See you on Friday… Ginger Fox…”

And with that he got out of the vehicle.

He still had a job to do, and then he would go to sign the papers on his temporary premises before going to the solicitor to start the divorce process. He couldn’t wait to have the older Holmes panting against him, no clothes, no work and all the time in the world to caress his skin. To learn what made him go mad with desire, what caused him to moan, to whimper…

Greg was a little surprised over the intensity of his desire, how quickly was everything taking place. And yet, he didn’t seem to care.

“ _You don’t stand a chance against Mycroft,_ ” Sherlock had said not many days after that first talk they had… and, as always, he had been right.


	2. Inappropriate behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After signing the divorce papers at the lawyer's office Greg texts Mycroft to let him now he is almost a free man... but the ginger fox seems to take the news coldly, so the detective inspector wonders if maybe the older Holmes is having second thoughts about their dinner plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't quite make Mycroft's eye color, but since the actor who plays it has clear colored ones I went with it.

The first part of the divorce proceedings went incredibly smooth and quickly, which made the detective inspector wonder if maybe Mycroft was moving invisible ties to get him separated a little sooner that normal.

The solicitor had been incredibly kind with him and his soon-to-be ex-wife. He’d explained the whole process, letting them know that even if it was on common grounds the whole thing could take a couple of weeks at least, but he would submit the proper papers in Court as soon as the next day.

Greg had smiled and told him there was no hurry, since he was a police officer and knew how long due process took. The lawyer smiled back and extended his hand to shake theirs.

“I’ll call as soon as I have any news,” he said. When Lestrade asked about his fee, the man proceeded to tell him that the whole thing would be pro bono so there were no worries there. “I’ve an outstanding respect for the force,” the man said with the practiced ease of a well-trained liar.

The detective inspector nodded, pretending to accept the story, and he and his former wife walked out of the office, still on good terms with each other.

He told her about the new place he had rented and she told him the movers had been by that very morning. After he had left for the Yard, they’d come to the house to take all of his things out, so she had kind of guessed that he had found a flat or something. She sounded relieved that the whole thing was over.

The silver haired man smiled to himself knowing that the only person who could have sent unknown persons to retrieve his belongings was a certain ginger haired fox that he suspected was also paying or extorting or something the solicitor whose office they had just vacated.

Things were moving along quite extraordinarily, he decided, while accompanying the woman to find a taxi because he was still a gentleman at heart… even if the older Holmes brought out the wild side of his.

The moment she disappeared from his sight, he took the well trusted mobile phone from his pocket and send a text to the man he had been thinking so much about the last few days.

**Papers signed, all done. I'm almost a free man now. GL**

After a second he decided that another message was due.

**Thank you, by the way. GL**

The answer didn’t take long to come.

**Congratulations, Gregory. No thanks needed. MH**

He didn’t like the reply, it was too cold. Although he liked the fact that the other didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know why was being shown gratitude for. Maybe he needed to remind to the older Holmes than they had unresolved business between them.

**Dinner invitation still standing, Ginger Fox? GL**

He typed while the hailing a cab and giving the address to his new lodgings.

A moment later he felt the soft vibration of his phone. He picked it up a little hesitant, because things could go either way.

**If you want to, Gregory. MH**

The man had trust issues, evidently, and didn’t think much of him if he believed that now that Greg was almost divorced he would let his prize slip through his fingers.

Once again he wondered who and how badly the man had been hurt in the past. Holding the position that he had obviously made him very coveted prey and, he suspected, still was. So maybe it was just Mycroft's defense mechanism to pretend he was not interested. But Greg knew better than to buy the act. He had seen the man, had felt his hunger, seen his raw desire in those beautiful clear eyes. So he was once more calling the man on the bluff, so to speak.

**Having second thoughts, are you, Ginger Fox? GL**

He just knew that the nickname did something to the older Holmes. His breath had gotten slightly more agitated when Greg used it. And he wanted to make sure that the man recalled the things that he had already experienced and thought of all the ones he could and would be made to feel if given half the chance.

Lestrade half knew, half suspected, the taller one wasn’t a virgin by any chance. But he looked… sex starved was the only way to put it… It was obvious he had been denying himself far too long. Maybe that was the bad thing about being the British Government, it ended up being a solitary position. And being a genius surely didn’t help matters. Greg had seen how hard it was for Sherlock. He didn’t believe it was any easier for his brother, even if said man seemed better adapted to dealing with other human beings.

*****

He had finally spoken with the consulting detective about the encounter with his sibling the day after the murderer insurance vendor case was taken from him. Even if he left out the kissing and phone sex part, he had the suspicion that the other had known there was something amiss.

“ _Mycroft likes you,_ ” the brunette had told him abruptly, studying the detective inspector carefully.

“I’m a likable person,” he had answered with a smile.

“Please don’t be daft, it’s unbecoming.” The man had looked him in the eyes at last and his grey orbs seemed to darken “Do you like him back?” he had asked at once.

Lestrade was sorely tempted not to answer, to simply tell him off. But there was something there that made him realize it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do. These two men seemed to be extremely protective of one another. Moreover, they were like no one else in the world, so it was perfectly understandable that they trusted each other to watch their backs. Even if there was a certain, almost clear, sibling rivalry among them.

“Yes,” Greg had responded and let the other analyze his posture and everything else he could catch on to his heart’s content.

Eventually the consulting detective had nodded, but kept his serious gaze focused on Greg.

“Mycroft won’t be easy to win over, and you’ll _have to_ win him over, Lestrade,” he had said ceremoniously, as if he were revealing a well kept secret.

The detective inspector just kept silent, letting the other say his piece at his own pace.

“My brother thinks that there isn’t a single person in the world worthy of his… _affection_. He has been hurt before, when he was younger… Mycroft never… he doesn’t speak about it and he is better than me at concealing things he doesn’t want to share…”

 _Well, that was news!_ Greg had thought sarcastically. The information that Sherlock was so freely giving to him wasn’t exactly unexpected. He had suspected as much from the way the man tried to detach and control himself in every respect.

There was something else in the taller man’s tone. He appeared to be genuinely concerned about what this person or persons had done to his sibling even though he wouldn’t say anything about. It was more than just not having the answer to the puzzle; it was something that hurt him.

Maybe he should pay more attention the next time he got together with the younger man. And he hoped it wasn’t as bad as he imagined… For the both of them… and for those who had hurt him.

“You really _care_ about him!” the consulting detective had exclaimed, shaking Greg out of his reverie. Sherlock had seemed genuinely surprised and pleased at that.

“Of course I care about your brother, Sherlock!”

“Your whole stance changed… You want to avenge him,” he had said almost laughingly. “There is no need for that Lestrade… He took care of _that_ years ago. He is never… he had never taken well to those who use him.” Now the tone was deadly serious and it sent shivers through the yarder's spine.

“No one should,” he had replied and then looked at the younger man who was still fighting to make a decision. “ _Out with it_ , Sherlock. What is the worst you’ve yet to tell me about your brother?”

“Mycroft has always been obsessed with finding his _heart_ …”

The yarder was about to make an observation about stupid things to say but the other had raised his hand to stop him before the words left his mouth. He had just nodded and resigned himself to listen to the other man.

“Hear me out, because this is really important for him. It’s… kind of an obsession. That’s why he had made himself vulnerable before and now he has decided _not_ to let anyone get close again. He has convinced himself that his heart doesn’t exist anymore. So he’ll fight you every step of the way and yet he’ll play rough and _dirty_ to get and keep you…”

“You are talking nonsense here, Sherlock,” Greg had said, ready to leave the flat at once. But the man had prevented him from doing so by taking his arms and violently forcing him sit back down on the couch.

“My brother _needs_ his heart and I think you are _it_ for him. The only person who can make him a bit more human again and not just the British Government, but he… He won’t let himself believe it because of what happened, so you’ll have to do all of the work.” There was a little bit of desperation in the high pitched voice

“Okay, okay, let’s _pretend_ I get any of what you are telling me, which I don’t… Your brother has the right to say _no_ to me, Sherlock. There is only so far I can push.” Of course, he would try and convince the other to give him a chance but, if Mycroft didn’t want to, there was no way he was forcing the issue.

His words seemed to wake something inside the other, and the mad light that usually meant he had cracked the case, appeared in his eyes.

“He will send you a lot of mixed signals. One day he’ll stop the world so you can make it in time to see a movie, even if you are not going with him, because that’s what _you_ want to do. And the next he will pretend you are no more interesting to him than a spot of ink on a blank paper… You… you’ll have to be patient and go for him at the same time… Don’t let him _think_ ,” he had said, agitated once more. Sherlock started to pace like a caged animal muttering something under his breath that sounded like. “ _I can’t believe he found it first!_ ”

Five minutes later it was obvious that the topic was as good as forgotten since the man had stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the detective inspector surprised to see him still there, sitting on the sofa, watching him pace all over the place in a fit of maniac energy.

“I’ll work on those cold cases of yours later and text you," he had said after a moment, shooing the detective inspector out of his home. "Don’t you think you should go find a new place to stay if your soon-to-be ex wife is keeping the house?” he had added almost as an afterthought.

The man didn’t exactly want to know how the other deduced that, so he simply walked to the door.

Greg had turned once more before going to see the mad genius picking up his violin with a sad light in his stormy grey eyes. He wondered briefly what could have brought that melancholy over Sherlock’s features but knew better than to prod the issue.

By the time he put his feet on the street his mind was busy working over what the younger man had said to him about his older sibling.

*****

An incoming text message took him out of his remembrance, just when the vehicle he was in stopped at his new living space. He suspected it was too much of a coincidence but maybe he was just being paranoid. Lestrade paid the fare and got out before looking at the reply on his cell.

**Of course not, Gregory. I merely thought you may want to take some time before engaging in a new love affair. MH**

Trust the man to complicate what was a very simple matter.

**I’ve already been made to wait… take pity on me, Ginger Fox. GL**

Then a thought came to him and he turned to the nearest CCTV camera. He looked directly at the thing and winked. While he was entering his flat, another text came in.

**That was a very inappropriate thing to do, Detective Inspector. MH**

So, the message had been passed along... that or Mycroft personally supervised the cameras he walked by.

**Asking you what you are wearing is an inappropriate thing to do. But greeting you, beautiful? GL**

He sent it while sitting down on the couch. He began to meditate on his chances if he called the man at once instead of keeping up this text flirting.

The decision was taken out of his hands when the phone began to ring.

“How are you, beautiful?” he asked promptly, knowing that he had to get the upper hand right away if this conversation was to be longer than a minute.

“You have to stop doing that, Gregory.”

“Doing what exactly, Mycroft?” he asked seriously but with a hint of humor in his voice.

“Sending me those… less than work suitable texts,” the man said strictly.

That made the yarder laugh, hard.

“You’ve never been truly sexted if you think those aren’t work-safe messages, Mycroft!” he exclaimed at last.

“As you know, I can’t afford to be distracted by such things, Gregory… Especially if we are going to dinner in _less_ than forty eight hours,” he said, letting his tone get a little softer at the last part.

“You make such a good point, beautiful,” Lestrade replied softly. Yet he wasn’t ready to let the other go so quickly. “You can surely take a few minutes off, right? A smoke break, so to speak?” he asked, letting himself sound hopeful.

“I do not take any of those, Gregory. I quit years ago…” the other one said.

This was beginning to look promising.

“Lunch hour, then? A little more time to play with?” he asked with a darker tone, the same one he had use in the black car the last time they had seen each other.

“Sadly, I can’t dispose of an hour to… ‘play’ as you put it so charmingly. I’ve… urgent things to solve.”

“I’m sure the British Government can take at least several minutes to… _enjoy himself_.” Now he was teasing the other, trying to make his words inviting.

“No matter what Sherlock says, Detec… _Gregory_ , I only occupy a minor position in the British government.”

“If you insist, Mycroft…” he said letting the other know he wasn’t buying the act. “And all the more reason for you to simply set your things aside and let me…” he began but the British Government cut him abruptly.

“I _can’t_ Gregory,” he said, emphasizing the middle word as if to transmit that he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. “I’ve a meeting in four point two-zero minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Ginger Fox,” the silver haired man said sincerely, he hadn’t intended to get the other all hot and bothered if he had to go out of his office. Moreover, he didn’t really like the idea of another person seeing the older Holmes at his sexiest—all flustered, his eyes shining with desire—if he wasn’t there to let whoever it was know that Mycroft was taken.

“We’ll see each other on Friday, Gregory… _we'll play_ then,” he said almost shyly.

Gregory smiled to himself at the promise... the build-up was going to be the end of him…

“How long will your meeting take, Mycroft?” he asked abruptly.

“I can’t really tell, in the most probable scenario it will be three hours and ten minutes.” The man seemed to be answering truthfully. And Greg began to see a little of that amazing power that the younger Holmes told him the other possessed to process all kind of information and give a likely answer.

“I’ll sext you in four hours then… Show you all about improper text messages…”

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about adding the sexting between the two of them but I didn't decided either way


End file.
